Three Rings
by seeyoustandingthere
Summary: She remembers when this was his house, a place that made her prickle with uncertainty and anticipation. She remembers the first time she came here with the knowledge that things had changedRe posted due to pagination,originally posted earlier today. Sorry
1. Chapter 1

**SORRY - I just _had_ to fix the pagination, it was driving me crazy, so apologies for re-posting. Thanks for your reviews - keep them coming!**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This takes place around and after 8x04. I was touched by the scene, and in fact all the scenes since 8x01, and wanted to explore what might have been going on in those weeks and what might come next.**

**n.b – I draw your attention to the fact that this is written in the present tense, I posted a previous story which was written in this way and someone hated me for not flagging it up – so here you go. If you don't like the tense, read another story.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters, or the show. CBS owns me, in fact, if anything. I bow to them. **

The tears are collecting already as she looks at him. She can't see, she doesn't care. What has he just said to her? How can this be? Nine years and counting. Nine. A quarter of her lifetime, in this haze of stomach churning moments that cannot be happening to anyone else alive. Not like this.She wants to say, _what_? She wants to rewind time thirty seconds to when it had not been said, and prepare, get ready to receive it. She has never, ever, imagined this moment, even when she were a little girl, and her inexperience shows.She can't move.

Something crawls on her outstretched palm as she counts every breath, just to be sure they are still coming in and out. One.. two... three.. should she say something? She can't. It just has to be a joke. Or a mistake. He has to be about to blush, to retract it, to say something negative to counter it and return them to their familiar path of two steps forward three steps back. Lately, the steps have only been going in one direction, and she has been waiting for the ball to drop.

"What do you think?" He looks eager but sheepish. He looks... surely not... _vulnerable. _Like he doesn't know what she will say.How is that possible?_Are you serious?_ She says in her head, but nothing comes out. Her tears threaten to give an answer for her, and so she speaks.

"Yes," she says, and his face lights up. The sight of it makes her emotional, even more so. She had no idea he would do this, say this, ask this, and no idea that if he did she would say that. She'd never even considered if it would ever happen, just assumed quite contentedly that it wouldn't, and that that was okay. Now, though, as he smiles in relief and a kind of joy she thinks she's never seen on his face before, and mumbles a "yeah?" as if to reassure himself that he's not dreaming either, there's nothing she wants more.

Of course she wants to marry him. She was born to be his wife.

Catherine is the first to notice. She knows that something is going on, and announces to him that he can't fool her again. His even temper and smile give him away, apparently, and she doesn't like being in the dark. He thinks about telling her, but wants Sara to have a ring first. His question was not exactly off the cuff, he had made the decision some days before - in fact, in many ways he thought he had been working up to it since the day they met - but he had found himself unable to wait any longer. Catherine lets it lie, thinking to herself that she will take Sara by surprise, knowing that she is the worse liar of the two. She has no idea, and it never enters her head to suspect the m word. It is, after all, Sara and Grissom.

By the time he reaches their home that morning, he has been engaged for all of ten hours. He sits in the car on the drive and remembers when this was his house, an ivory tower in which she had never been. He remembers the first time she came here, with the others. He remembers the way she looked that day, behind his kitchen counter, fixing coffee for the team. He wonders how it is that that was not enough to make him overcome his fears.

He thinks of the moment he knew she would live here, with him. Another awakening, after a long, slow day of love making. He was grateful every day that their nights were days, and what this meant. Watching her face in the morning sun as they moved together. Light when they lay down, light when they woke. This particular day they woke together, showered together, ate together and left for work together. When they reached the side street close to the lab where he would drop her off, he felt a sadness come over him. He hated the clandestine feeling he got doing this, hated that something so beautiful to him could ever be seen as wrong or inappropriate. He stopped her as she went to get out. Gave her a key and asked her if she'd like to live with him. She wrinkled her beautiful nose at him, surprised. He offered to move the bugs out of the house and into the garage. She smiled, and said maybe just the hissing ones. His face colours at the memory. She said yes then, too.

Grissom gets out of the car and lets himself in, anything but tired. Sara is working swing, so he won't see her until the evening. He showers, changes, and sets off out again. First stop, coffee, a good roast, no less will do for this errand. Second stop, a store he has never before set foot in. He makes three purchases.

When Sara's shift finishes, Greg catches her. He's returning from court, and looks cute in his monkey suit. He's tired, and wants to talk over something caffeine based. She makes an excuse, pleading for a raincheck, saying she needs to get home. Greg is suspicious, knowing she is never usually one to turn down coffee. He asks where the fire is, and Sara blushes. She replies that she just wants to be in her own home, and he translates correctly that she wants to see her boyfriend.

"No," she answers, in truth. He's not her boyfriend anymore.

His car is there when she pulls up. She remembers when this was his house, a place that made her prickle with uncertainty and anticipation. She remembers the first time she came here with the knowledge that things had changed. The way his voice had sounded on the phone, the memory of his hands clasping Nick's as they prayed he would get out of the ground alive. The emotion it had wrenched out of them both, wreaking havoc inside their heads, needing release. It was he who had called, and she had almost wept with relief. She drove over here at his suggestion and they talked from darkness into light, in more ways than one. As the night gave way to the morning, their hearts and minds began to unclench, slowly letting themselves creep closer on his leather couch. Each time one of them rose to make more coffee or use the bathroom, they sat down an inch closer, until at sometime around seven in the morning, his hand reached for hers.

Sara smiles as she realises that he has left just enough space for her car on the drive. Now it is their house, and he has given it so willingly, as though he was always in need of another six bookshelves and a blowdryer.

It is dark when she opens the door. The house smells clean, and is quiet. She closes the door and puts her keys neatly on the sideboard. She goes to the kitchen counter and flicks on the light above the island. On the counter is a red rose, on it's stem, a ring. She stops, her breath caught in her throat. It's beautiful. A folded note sits next to it. She opens it."Thoreau, over coffee?" She reads out loud, smiling to herself, and looks around for him. No sign.

She moves further into the living room and sees the book on the coffee table. Thoreau himself. Seeing that there is a marker in the book, she sits and opens it. In it is another note, and another ring. This one completely different from the first. Gold where the other is silver, with what looks like sapphire in the setting. She is confused. Unfolding the note, she reads, " A little night air?" This rings no bells with her at first, until she feels the breeze on her bare shoulder. The window is open, the curtain billowing gently. She gets up, holding the two rings tightly in her fist. She draws back the fabric and this time gasps.

A butterfly sits on the frame. It is from his collection, carefully transposed onto the wooden strut, complete with the pin which would normally hold it in place. She thinks she may even recognise it. It's _real_, preserved, striking. Around its middle, its dry body, sits a third ring. This one is an antique, a darker gold, with a small, subtle diamond at its centre.Her eyes fill, and she knows that there will never be anything more perfect than this. From this man, to this woman, this gesture is the greatest that can be made. It says everything to her, everything that they are and that he wants to give her. She is crying softly as he approaches, slipping his hand into hers. She turns into him and holds him in the dim room, so sure that he will never grow old or undesirable to her.

"I wasn't sure which one you'd like."

She laughs gently, her frame shaking against his. As if they are not all perfect, all more than she has ever imagined, more than she can comprehend. There is nothing she can say. It is all too much for one day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Re-posted due to pagination issues - sorry for any inconvenience!**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This takes place around and after 8x04. I was touched by the scene, and in fact all the scenes since 8x01, and wanted to explore what might have been going on in those weeks and what might come next.**

**n.b – I draw your attention to the fact that this is written in the present tense, I posted a previous story which was written in this way and someone hated me for not flagging it up – so here you go. If you don't like the tense, read another story.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters, or the show. CBS owns me, in fact, if anything. I bow to them. **

**Three Rings – Chapter Two**

Sara has to look three times at her hand the next morning to believe that this is real. Grissom is not back from work yet, and she is taking her time getting ready for swing, hoping he might get home before she leaves. She blinks as she watches her fingers curl around the handle of the coffee pot. She is going to work. Wearing an engagement ring. By choice.

When she woke up, she looked at the blue box on her nightstand, and she thought that she would leave it there. She showered, washed her hair, and as her fingers laced through the wet strands she missed the way the ring caught there, as it had the night before, when she had worn it all evening, until the moment before sleep came.

When she dressed, and dried her hair, she slipped it back onto her finger, and thought she could feel the residue of the dry butterfly casing between the metal and her skin. She loved the way this piece of jewellery had come into her life, obscurely, unexpectedly and with world-rocking precision. Just like him.

So here she is, wearing it, and wanting to. She is waiting for the hands to click by on the clock on the wall, the rest of her life now in motion. Waiting for it to bring him, and then work, and the people who she isn't exactly dreading telling. In fact, she is strangely excited.

_Excited_? She thinks, scolding herself. _What has happened to me?_ The door opens as her coffee cup is half way to her mouth, and her question is answered. He looks tired, but his face is unmistakably set in the same expression as hers. He has been counting the minutes, just as she has, and although neither of them would say so, they are breathless to be reunited.

When he steps through the door, he marvels at how simple utter happiness has become in the end. He laughs inwardly at the nerves he fought when building up to asking her, when choosing the ring, so unsure if he knew her taste. She had loved them all, and her first choice had been his, too. He thinks quickly how much he has changed in the time since they gave up the fight and became lovers. He had worried so much about changing, and in the end it had only made him a whole person. This woman, instead of overshadowing all the things in his life that he holds so fiercely close, has seeped in around all of his edges, filling all the gaps, threatening nothing. When he almost lost her, he kicked himself, cried privately, with no decent reason as to why he had waited so damn long. He could have been searching for his wife in the desert. He could have married her years ago.

But looking at her now, the surprise and the joy in her expression, the shock of Sara Sidle with anyone's ring on her finger, he knows that their time is now. And there will be no more mistakes.

Their kiss is frenetic, as though it has been months, edged with the same abandon as the first and the same surprise as the fifth – _how come this hasn't fallen apart yet?_

When finally he lets her go, his eyes are bright with a different kind of energy.

"How long before you have to go?" He holds her so close, his strong arms wrapped seamlessly around her back.

"An hour or so," she replies, knowing that she would happily roll in a little late for whatever is behind his question. He nods, pleased.

She is excited, too, by the feel of the ring dragging across his skin. She sees it, deep colour set against his milky back. He feels the gentle dig of the gold band and knows without looking what it is. It somehow strengthens the bond, heightens the intensity of the moment, and he raises his game accordingly.

It isn't until that afternoon that the news breaks. Sara's new shift mates don't know her well enough to notice, or if they do notice, not well enough to ask. It is when her shift is over and she's putting in some overtime, reluctant to go home to an empty house, that Catherine hunts her down.

Still suspicious from Grissom's ambiguities the day before, Catherine wants blood. All her senses are on high alert. It takes her thirty seconds to notice the ring. She stares at Sara's hand as Sara wonders if this is how it went when Catherine realised Warwick was wearing a ring. She feels ever so slightly bad that she has never been close enough to Catherine to ask about that. Even though she is grateful that over the last two years Catherine has not asked her about _this_.

"What's that?" Sara plays it cool. She doesn't take her eyes off the screen where she is running a print comparison. Her hand rests lightly on the mouse.

"What?" Catherine grabs her hand and pulls it closer to her face.

"Is that –" Sara clicks the mouse and doesn't react.

"Is this what I think it is?" Sara can't hide her smile now.

"That all depends on what you think it is." Catherine is aghast, inspecting the ring.

"Sara! Is it -?" Sara pauses to gather herself. She can scarcely bring herself to say it.

"Yes."

Catherine rocks into a chair, shaking her head, astounded. Her smile is bigger than Sara has ever seen it, though, and she can't help but be touched at the reaction. Of all her work mates, Catherine is the one with whom she has had the stormiest relationship. She is also the closest thing Grissom has to a sister or a best friend, and her approval, though Sara is begrudged to admit it, means a lot to her.

"You're getting married." It's a statement and a question, she is still incredulous. Sara is about to answer, when she is interrupted.

"What!" The voice is unnaturally high pitched, and she doesn't know it immediately. Nick's head shoots around the corner of the door jamb, eyes wide.

"Did I hear that right?" Sara blushes, shy of the attention, although bursting with pride somewhere beneath her red cheeks. She mumbles a yeah as Nick stands beside Catherine, the same look on his face now.

"Seriously?"

Sara nods, smiling mutely. Nick launches himself at her, swallowing her up in a huge bear hug, the brotherly affection she has always loved him for coming to the fore. Catherine sits back, still shaking her head, giggling.

"How the hell did you do it?" Catherine laughs, as Nick lets her go.

"How did she do it – how did _he_ do it, more's the point!" Nick counters, winking at Sara.

"Thought you were anti-wedding?" Sara opens her mouth to protest, and Nick hugs her again, laughing at her red face.

"Seriously Sara, that's… it's great news. Really, really great." Sara smiles.

"Thanks, Nick."

"And listen, we gotta talk about this some more, but I've got a hot case." Nick winks one last time, beaming at her, and leaves. Catherine stands, unable to look away from Sara. The mood quietens, and Sara wonders if Catherine's reaction won't be quite so exuberant.

"I should get going, too." Sara nods.

"But.. Sara.. can I just say.. that I really couldn't be happier for you. I don't think there's another woman in the world that could get Grissom down the aisle. Or another woman I'd be happy to see him marry, for that matter." Sara nods, knowing that Catherine is protective of Grissom. Catherine walks to the door and turns.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you." Catherine begins to walk away.

"Cath?"

"Yeah."

"If you can, I mean, if you want to.. I could use your help." Catherine smiles, tossing her hair.

"I get it. You need a woman who knows where the mall is." Sara smiles her gratitude, not for the offer of help, or the words, but for the chance and the allowance Catherine gives, for not holding the two year silence against her, for trusting her to love Grissom the way Catherine would want him to be loved. Catherine walks away, and Sara watches her go, the outline of her back blurring into tears.

Grissom has seen something like this before. Last year, when he went on sabbatical. Nick took his departure as a 'euphemism for sayonara', and there was a similar hallway display then. This time, as Nick rounds the corner with a strange smile, Grissom can't read it. As Nick approaches he thinks he is going in for a hug, until he extends his hand, shakes Grissom's firmly and then pulls him into a half-hug, a manly clapping of the back. Nick's grasp is tight, and definitely conveys some kind of pride or joy. As he releases his boss, Grissom peers inquisitively at him. Nick chuckles, once more patting him on the back, and says

"Congratulations, boss." Before Grissom can catch up with the moment, Nick is gone. Grissom lowers his glasses, perplexed.

"Hey." He turns, the voice coming from behind him. There she is. His heart swells as he takes in the sight of Sara, standing in the hall, jacket slung casually over her arm. He moves towards her, wondering why the word 'wife' is threading in and out of his head. He is playing with it, getting used to it in there before it gets out into the open.

"Did you… make some kind of announcement?" He secretly hopes she has. He wanted her to do it, to have that pleasure.

"Not as such. But yeah, Nick and Catherine know. I didn't think it was a secret, was it?" Grissom smiles at her softly.

"No, dear. On the contrary."

"Well, your turn now. I'm going home." He takes her hand, squeezes it, in place of a kiss which, although they are no longer in hiding or working the same shift, they both feel is a bit much for the lab. His fingers slide around the ring, and again he feels the thrill of surprise. They both look down at it, and Sara shakes her head, a small laugh escaping.

"What?"

"I still can't believe this." She says, biting her lip. He grins once more.

"Second thoughts?" She pushes him away playfully, returning his smile.

"On the contrary." She borrows his words and he smiles triumphantly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Re posted due to pagination errors. My fault. Thanks for your patience. I love you all.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This takes place around and after 8x04. I was touched by the scene, and in fact all the scenes since 8x01, and wanted to explore what might have been going on in those weeks and what might come next.**

**n.b – I draw your attention to the fact that this is written in the present tense, I posted a previous story which was written in this way and someone hated me for not flagging it up – so here you go. If you don't like the tense, read another story.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters, or the show. CBS owns me, in fact, if anything. I bow to them. **

**Three Rings – Chapter Three.**

Sara goes home, and sleeps better than she has in months. She wakes as soon as her alarm goes off, and dresses quickly. There is something she wants to do before work. This morning she slips the ring onto her finger with considerable ease, but it still registers and takes a full moment for her to move on from the action of doing so. She wonders if on their wedding day she will stand at the altar in a stupor as Grissom… her stomach flips as she realises she isn't quite ready to complete that particular image. It is still too much.

With butterflies, and thoughts of the as yet unthinkable, she gets into her car and drives the traffic-free roads to the lab. She appreciates the quiet, although she has only been working days for a few weeks. The traffic is a downside of swing. Being on the road when the rest of the world is awake.

She sits on the hood of Greg's car, and lets the sun kiss her face for the few minutes she has to wait. It is a beautiful day. Grissom's car is not in the lot, and she realises he is probably at the police station, or still out on a case. He may have had a hard night.

She doesn't have to wait long. Greg smiles at the sight of her.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" He looks ruffled.

"I believe I owe you a coffee."

"Are you buying?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm in."

Greg swings his kit and jacket into the back seat of his car and they idle over towards Franks.

"I guess you heard?"

"Heard what?" Sara looks at him to assess whether he is playing ball. His smirk suggests that he is.

"Come on, Greg."

"Okay. Grissom told us."

"And?"

"And I thought David was going to cry."

"David?"

"We were in the morgue."

"Of course you were," Sara mutters, rolling her eyes. Trust Grissom. Greg holds the door open for her and she leads them to their usual booth, motioning to the waitress for coffee.

"So.. what are _your_ thoughts, Greg?" Greg stretches, yawns, and smiles at her tiredly.

"I think it's awesome." Relief floods through Sara.

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not? You're clearly crazy about him. Why else would you never have succumbed to my charms?" He laughs easily. Sara grins. There is a moment for this to settle in the air as Sara relaxes in the knowledge that Greg understands.

When Greg speaks again, he is more sombre.

"When you were missing… he was out of his mind." Sara's throat tightens. This is the only period of their nine year saga that she knows nothing of. She can't ask, and he no doubt assumes she doesn't want to know. Greg continues.

"The way he talked about you, it left no room for doubt." Ironic, Sara thinks. One thing there has always been with Grissom is room for doubt.

"So when's the big day?"

"No idea."

"Are you thinking little white chapel?"

"No!" Greg laughs as she swats at him. He wants to remind of her of all the derogatory wedding-related comments she has ever made, but doesn't. He loves the smile she wears now that she's allowed to wear it. He hates to admit it, but he's never seen Sara anywhere near this happy.

"Actually, there is something I wanted to ask you about." Sara stirs sugar into her coffee as she speaks.

"Shoot."

"We really haven't thought about… when...or any of those details. But I do know that I don't have anyone to give me away."

Greg puts down his coffee cup and his smile slips away slowly. He is choked. She looks at him, deep and even, and he realises she is serious.

"What about your brother?"

"I have no idea where he is. You're the closest thing I have to a brother, or a best friend."

Suddenly she can see it. Their wedding. Greg, there for her, handing her over from this life to theirs. She sees Catherine, doing likewise for Grissom, and that feels right too. In her mind she steps slowly down towards him, and he turns towards her, smiling as they effortlessly negotiate their last moments as single people. She can see him take the ring from someone – maybe Catherine, maybe it's Jim, she isn't sure. She sees, no, feels, him take her hand and slip it carefully onto her finger. She looks down at the ring, and feels Greg's eyes on it too. She looks up at him.

"I'd be honoured," he says.

When she walks into the lab to start her shift, more people know. Hodges, Wendy, Mandy and Archie catch her at intervals, asking questions, Hodges about the profitability of getting married in this day and age, Mandy about how she was asked. Sara recounts the moment, leaving out the way in which he gave her the ring. That feels private, and she keeps it that way.

It is Sofia, who has been on vacation for a week, who is the first to hear it from them both. Catching them at the end of Sara's shift and part way through Grissom's, she sweeps into his office where Sara is consulting a book on weather patterns for the case she is working. Grissom has a book for every occasion, she reminded herself, after she came in under the guise of work just to spend five minutes with him, and ended up finding exactly what she needed anyway.

Grissom is at his desk, filling in evaluation forms. Sara remembers so many tense and beautiful moments sitting in the chair opposite him, awaiting his words, wondering if he would be kind, wondering if she would say what she had rehearsed in the mirror. _You've always been a little more than a boss to me._

"Grissom," Sofia begins, "Brass tells me you have important news. He wouldn't tell me what. Please tell me you're not leaving." Grissom looks at Sara, and says no, he isn't leaving, although as he does so it crosses his mind that one day he will. One day they will, together. He thinks about their future, their days of less dangerous, more sociable work, less night shifts and more Sundays spent together.

"What is it, then?" Grissom raises his eyebrows at Sara, who nods encouragingly. She won't be the one to tell Sofia, and somehow she really needs to hear him do it. There is only one person who has caused Sara greater insecurity than Sofia, but she isn't about to suggest he call up Lady Heather.

"We're getting married." Sara breathes out. A tiny thorn in the side of her, painlessly removed. He has managed to say the words, too. She, so far, has only been able to let people know, rather than actively telling them. A subtle difference.

Sofia stands very still for a moment, looking at him. When she turns to look at Sara, she is misty eyed. Speechless, too. Clearly this is not what she expected, although she does a fine job of covering that.

"Congratulations." She backs up a couple of steps, and places one hand over her mouth, smiling. "Really. Congratulations."

"Congratulations on?" Ecklie's expression is flat, as usual. He has overheard, as he seems to think it is his prerogative to do, and now stands limply in the doorway as Sofia slips out.

Sara turns, the smile already there. Oh, she's going to enjoy this. And then, from nowhere, the very words are on the tip of her tongue. No euphemism or paraphrase will do.

"Grissom and I are getting married." Ecklie looks from Sara to Grissom and rolls his eyes.

"Of _course_ you are."

That day, they cross the line at work for the very first time. Ironically, in all their clandestine months and years, they held themselves at arms length at all times during working hours. Words only, and few, even, of those. But Ecklie's disgust is their pleasure, and it is Grissom who gets up to lock the door behind him, lowering the shades as he does so. He turns to look at Sara, who is still holding his book. She places it carefully back on the shelf, sensing that he has something on his mind.

He stands before her, just looking. Without saying a word, he wills her into his arms. For what feels like a night and day, they stand, her head buried in his shirt, things approaching a kind of peace in their world. So many battles waged, so many disasters averted, and now, at last, just love, and time stretch ahead of them.

Sara pulls him down onto the couch beside them.

"I need to ask you something."

"Okay."

"If..what happened.. in the desert..hadn't happened. Would you still want to get married?"

"Yes."

"I mean, would you actually have said that, this week, if that hadn't happened?"

"Maybe not _this _week. But I've been looking for the answer ever since I met you. How to keep you near me, how to have you completely. When you were missing, I knew I might have missed the chance. I was so angry with myself, for the time I wasted. Even these two years. I should have used them better, I should have let you get closer.

When they took us up in that helicopter and you opened your eyes, I felt desperate. I knew I could never be without you. But I know that I can't protect you from everything. It seemed like the least I could do, to show you that I wanted to spend my life with you. I thought it was obvious until you weren't here, and then I was asking myself, wherever you were, would you know how I felt, would you know that you were all I'd ever, ever wanted. And I couldn't be sure."

She has never wanted him more. Her hands close around his neck and she pulls him into a kiss, tears falling easily. She is no longer afraid of him seeing her cry. She can't be afraid now. They kiss for a long time, languid tongues seeking out the well known corners of one another's mouths. Familiar, maybe, but never old. She burns with wanting him, but knows that they have all the time in the world. She pulls back and strokes the lines on his face.

"I can't wait to be your wife."

END.


End file.
